HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods (22 page)

“Petal? What is it? What is wrong?” He knelt and
embraced me. The scent of salty brine was still on his robes, and his hands
left filthy smudges on my skin. At that, inexplicably, tears pricked behind my
eyes. I began to cry. I could not help it.

“Shh, Petal! I am here now. There is no need for
tears. I am safely home.” He rocked me in his arms.

I am ashamed now of the way I clutched at him--at
the way I let him cradle me. How I fooled him into thinking the tears I cried
were for him. I sobbed. I wailed. I pulled at my hair.

He lifted me in his arms and kissed me. He led me
to the pool’s edge and we sank into the water together, while my clothing
dragged at our twining limbs. He kissed my cheeks, my lips and my eyes. I let him.
I did more than let him.

I suckled his bottom lip. My fingernails marked
his back as I clung to him and I panted like a wild creature, like the Maenads
of my forbearers. I wanted him inside me with a desperation I’d never felt. I
welcomed the bite of the pool’s stone edge against my backside as he pawed
aside the fabric floating between us and thrust into me. His tongue plunged
into my mouth and I cried out with pleasure. I moaned and thrust my hips
against him.

I wanted to feel something, anything….

“Ah, Petal, my love…my love…” Charaxus sank his teeth
into my soft shoulder before he released his seed.

I reveled in the pain. I
felt
.

“Yes, yes!” I shouted as he spent himself inside
me. “You
do
love me. You love me, Charaxus.” I held him tightly, until
his senses returned.

He stiffened and pulled away, staring at me with
an odd expression. His eyes became suspicious. “You are different, Petal. What
goes here?”

I could not bear to look at him. I slogged out of
the pool and peeled the sodden clothing from my skin. I hoped the sight of my
nakedness would distract him, but it did not. The haze of lust had already
faded from him.

“Petal? What has happened while I was away?” His
brows drew together.

“Nothing,” I lied. “Nothing happened.”
I
thought to love an Egyptian craftsman who did not love me
, I finished in
my head.

Charaxus frowned and pushed me towards the house. “Get
dressed.”

I sloshed to my room, spattering droplets of water
like tears the entire length of the hall. With shaking hands, I pulled on my
second best dress. I heard Charaxus call to Rada and the other servants to make
a report. What would they tell? What could they say? I had not done anything
with Hori, really. Just kissed his supple lips and stroked his smooth, copper
skin. I’d let him touch me, but not for long. Let Rada make her report. I told
myself I did not care but I crept nearer to the doorway and strained my ears
for any sound.

Silence fell over the house. After a few moments,
I went back and dried my hair. I tried to arrange it; without Rada’s hands to
help me, I could not train my long locks into any semblance of order. I let it
dry, long and flowing as a young girl’s. Then I waited and waited longer still.

I was about to abandon my wait and seek out
Charaxus for myself, when he appeared in the doorway. His eyes burned and the
hair stood out on my arms.

“Tell me,” he said softly. I could not face him. “Tell
me the truth, now. I would hear it from your own tongue.” He moved towards me
and trailed a finger over my love-swollen mouth. “Your own…lying…tongue.”

I began to cry again, this time out of fear. “Please,”
I whispered. “Please.”

He drew his hand back and slapped me full across
the face. I fell to the ground. Shock raced through me, but I did not feel the
pain of his blow.

He’d never struck me before.
Never
.

“Charaxus, master…please,” I sobbed. “I never
meant to…to hurt you. He was a boy, just a boy. I did not lie with him. I’ll
never shame you again, I swear.”

He yanked me to my feet by my hair. Pain singed my
scalp, a thousand needles of flame. He released my hair with such force I
stumbled backwards against the wall. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me
brutally.

“How could you? I gave you everything! Everything!”
And he shook me harder. I cracked my head on the mud bricks. My vision wavered.
“You were mine to do with as I pleased. How could you dishonor me, dishonor my household,
in such a way?”

“I’m so-or-ry. Charaxus, please. Forgive me.” I
put my hands up and tried to protect myself, but he struck me again.

His open palm slammed against the side of my face.
Blood gushed from my left nostril and I fell to the floor. I curled into a ball
and waited for the next barrage of blows.

“Aaagh!” He whirled away from me and upended an
inlaid chest, spilling my cosmetic tray to the floor. “
Why
?”

I cowered as he yanked my polished bronze mirror
from the stand and smashed it atop the corner of the chest. The bronze disc
crumpled, distorting the image of my fearful face. He tossed it aside.

“Why, Petal, why?” Charaxus raked his hands
through his hair. He staggered towards me.

I feared another blow, and shrank in fear, but he
knelt instead and cupped my bruised chin in his hands.

“
Why
?” he asked again, softly. His
eyes raged.

“I…I thought he loved me. He said he did.”

Charaxus flinched as if I’d struck him.

“I loved you.” He sat back and put his hand over
his eyes. “Wasn’t that enough?”

Words formed for the emotions I’d kept bottled inside
me for years.

“You own me. I am accustomed to lying with you
because it is my duty. No, it was not enough. It was never love.”

Charaxus wiped his nose with the back of his
forearm. I flinched as he reached out to help me stand, but his touch was
gentle once more.

“And today?” he asked quietly. “In the pool? What
of that?”

I thought for a moment. “As you said. I am your
woman to do with as you please.”

Charaxus’ face turned red. “You sound like a
whore.”

“I am your slave. If I sound a whore, then you
have made me into one.”

He paused. His chest heaved from the force of his
exertions. Then he took me by the elbow roughly. “So be it.”

He led me none too gently into the hall and called
for papyrus, reed and ink. Rada brought it to him with a satisfied smirk. She
made a rude gesture to me behind his back as she left.

“If merely speaking words of love was the key to
opening your heart, I could have saved myself much time and effort.” He pushed
me roughly onto a stool while he wrote. “You imprudent girl, have you not
learned how words can lie? No, no…you have not yet. But I will show you truth. In
this last thing, I shall yet be your master.”

His hands shook as lines of crabbed hurried script
materialized on the papyrus like scorpion’s marks in the sand. When he had
finished, he blew on the scroll and turned it for me to read. There was a
passage in Greek and one in hieroglyphs.

“Be it known to all from this day hence,” I read
aloud, “the slave girl, Doricha, is a slave no longer. She is freed by Charaxus
of Mytilene, who loved her.”

I stared at him.

His eyes were terrible to behold. “You are free,
Doricha. For love of you, I offer your freedom. But for the shame of what you
have done, I disown you. I want you out of my sight. I will no longer be responsible
for you or your debts.”

Just like that, I was no longer a slave.

I was free.

“Get out.” He stood and turned away from me. “Go
find this man. Perhaps he will have you now. You will find out soon enough how
much freedom costs.”

I stood. My legs trembled so badly I did not think
they would hold me. I feared what words I might say, so I kept my jaw clenched
tight. I reached for the papyrus from his limp fingers. His eyes dared me to
take it. He let the scroll fall before I could take it and it fell to the
ground.

I dropped to my knees, scooping the precious
scroll and clutching it to my chest.

I was free
.

Charaxus did not look at me as I left.

I packed only a few things including the
hetaera’s
peplos
--it was so tattered it was scarcely suitable to carry my
few unbroken cosmetic jars and some trinkets, but I kept it. It was a healthy
reminder I should never trust on the attentions or generosity of a man.

I looked once more at the cedar chests of fine
Egyptian linens, the scented unguents, and the adornments Charaxus purchased
me. Then I closed the lids, and shouldered my small pack. I would take as
little of his gifts as I dared.

I kissed Ankh and stroked his soft fur one last
time. He scampered after a loose feather without so much as a final ‘Mrrrow’ to
bid me goodbye. Beautiful, fickle creature. He was just like Hori. I would
never trust such soft beauty again.

The belled, rose-gold slippers, I left sitting in
the middle of my chamber, a terrible reminder of following blindly the shame of
my passion. My heart still ached at Hori’s betrayal, but I forced myself to
swallow the pain. For I vowed, I would need no one.

I shouldered my small pack, filled with only the
essentials by which I would start my new life—a few trinkets, some of my
cosmetics, and a linen wrap. When I was halfway down the street, someone called
my name. Rada huffed and puffed after me. With a sharp motion, she thrust the
jingling slippers into my hands.

“Here,” she said brusquely. “Do not forget these! Take
them so all the world will know, ‘Here comes the whore!’” Then she spat on my
bruised, swollen cheek and sauntered away.

I wiped her spittle away and felt better than I
had in years.

I was free
.

I was free! As dawn broke, I ran to the marketplace
with wings on my feet. Perhaps Hori would allow me to sell back the slippers
for coin to send me home to Greece. At last, I was my own woman again. I wanted
to see his face when he discovered I was no longer a slave to any man.

When I turned the corner to his workshop, there
was no activity. No sounds of scraping or hammering, no clatter as he worked. Curious,
I peered inside. The room was dark and empty. Gone were the bench and tools. Gone
were the unused supplies laid neatly in rows. Gone even, was the effigy of Ptah
from his alcove. The faint scent of beer clung to the air, but the workshop was
dead.

“Where is he?” I asked the man in the nearest
stall.

He shrugged. “Gone.” His eyes returned to his
work. “Yesterday.”

So, Hori had disappeared last evening while I’d
cried out the ache in my soul to an unmoved goddess. I didn’t know what to
think. Hori had vanished as surely as his affection for me. I had neither the
desire nor the means to follow. In fact, I had nowhere to go at all. I was
alone in a strange land with little money and even less understanding.

I trudged between the market stalls for hours. As
the sun crept across the sky, my mood lifted. I’d no coin, but at least I could
go where I wished, do what I liked, and speak to whomever I pleased. After
years of slavery, I’d achieved my father’s dying wish. My life was again my
own. The familiar sounds of traders hawking their wares, the babble of heated
conversation, even the buzz of the insects seemed alive and gay. I breathed
deeply, inhaling spices and sweat and dust with lusty joy. I was free.

But when the sun reached its zenith and the flies
became unbearable, my mind turned away from my freedom to a much more pressing
concern.

I should leave this city, I thought. I will go
home to Thrace. But how to get there with little to barter for passage?

My stomach rumbled. I’d no food, no shelter, and
only the clothes on my back. I had little to barter with other than some
cosmetic pots, a few trinkets, and my rose-gold slippers, all carefully hidden
in my knotted
peplos
. Why had I not thought to take more?

I should trade my cursed slippers for something
more useful. But when I pulled out Hori’s treasures to barter for some dried
fish and figs, my heart seized in my chest. I could not give up my slippers,
yet. Such a treasure would be worth far more than sustenance; it would be the
means to deliver me home. I needed them to buy my passage back to Greece.

Where to go now?

A rising chant emanated from the temple, rising
over the noise of the marketplace. It mingled with the rising joy in my heart. Despite
my guilt over having shamed Charaxus, I owed the gods my thanks, so I went to
the temple to pray. Charaxus had told me Egypt was the mother of all religions,
I felt certain I would be welcome. Perhaps not in the innermost sanctuary where
only the most influential and devout were allowed, but a courtyard would
suffice. Surely my Lady would find me here and guide my footsteps. How long had
it been since I’d made an offering to her? I do not think the goddess could
live on dreams alone.

I traded away my pot of rouge for three long,
thorny stems of white roses. Market stalls closed for the afternoon as I
passed. I could only hope there would be few penitents at the temple, for I was
uncertain of how I’d be received, especially without the influential Charaxus
beside me.

Wearily, I drifted into the temple. Few Egyptians
paced the inner courtyard. None of their attire was particularly fine, and I
breathed a sigh of relief. I would be less noticeable, as the upper echelons
I’d traversed at Charaxus’ side would have worshipped in the morning, long
before the day’s tasks began.

The lesser priests and scribes’ dark kohl rimmed
gazes passed over me with lingering interest and more than a little curiosity,
despite their vows of celibacy. I could not tell if it was my foreign features
or my bruised cheeks that gave them pause. The chief priest, denoted by a
spotted animal fur, directed the others to separate the offerings for
purification in a line of wide ceremonial vessels. A scribe made a tally mark
on papyrus and when the lot was finished, he rolled it up and dropped it into a
huge alabaster jar. Such vessels are used by Pharaoh to make an accounting of
offerings; I’d seen them in the temple many times.

I handed the priest my three twined roses and his
brow furrowed. I suppose my offering seemed odd compared to the usual wine,
emmer wheat, and lotus blossoms. The sun gleamed off the priest’s shaved head,
reminding me of Hori and I averted my gaze.

The priest purified the pile of offerings in a
large grey calcite bowl of water. He waved the other supplicants inside, but
when I rose to follow, he shook his head.

“I wish to pray,” I said in halting Egyptian.

He scowled and stalked into the shaded overhang,
leaving me with the remaining two priests and a scribe who tallied the
offerings. I caught one of the priests staring at me. He saw me looking and
ducked his head.

I had to get into the temple. I’d been allowed
inside before, when we came with some of the wealthier patrons. And I was no
less humbly dressed than others who came in after me. Well, if they would not
let me pray here, I would not leave my offering. So much for Charaxus’ theory
that all nations are welcome in Egypt. If I did not fear his revoking my
freedom, I should march back and tell him so.

I moved to take back my roses, when a warm hand
covered mine. It was the same priest who’d sneaked looks at me. He shook his
head at me, motioning for me to take the roses and follow him. My heart thumped
in my chest, but I followed him as he meandered towards a small side garden,
nearly hidden by the outer wall of the temple complex. He turned the corner
much quicker than I, and when I followed hard on his heels, I nearly ran into
the back of him.

He faced me and grasped my shoulders to keep me
from stumbling backwards. Then he put a finger to his lips, motioning for
silence. Would he lead me into the temple in secret? When the priest checked
over my shoulder once more, he pointed to an alcove against the side of the
temple. In the alcove was a small bronze statue of a goddess. I whispered my
thanks.

The effigy was the warrior goddess who protected
this city--Neit. I hoped my Lady would not be offended.

Lady, if it be your will, remember me, your
lost flower. I am dying here in this unforgiving desert. I give myself to you…I
give myself to your will.

I pressed my head against the rough plastered mud
brick and extended my arms, prostrate before her. Moments passed, but I neither
heard nor felt anything, save for the tickle of insects when they landed on me.
I raised my head and glanced back into the courtyard. The priests and scribes
and supplicants had disappeared. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and resumed
my prayers. For long moments I waited for my Lady to speak, but no sparrow
called, no dove cooed. Perhaps she could not find me here? I prepared to leave,
but I did not know where to go.

Voices murmured in the courtyard. One in
particular sounded familiar. I stood and brushed the grit from my skin. Peeping
around the corner, I saw Isesi’s wife emerge from the second hall of the
temple. None of her daughters were present, but two slaves carried loaves of
bread, an amphorae, and lotus flowers--offerings for the goddess.

“Wakheptry,” I called as she passed me in the
temple courtyard.

She started and turned at the sound of my voice. “Greetings,
Doricha.” She scanned the crowded courtyard and she tipped her chin at the
tattered
peplos
knotted to hold all my possessions. “Where is
Charaxus? Have you brought offerings to Neit?”

I licked my parched lips. “I am alone, today.” I
stepped out of the shadows of the courtyard wall.

“Light of Ra, what happened to your face?”

“I…I was attacked.” It was hard to force the words
out of my dry mouth. I did not want to lie to Wakheptry if I could avoid it--I
did not think it right.

“Come with me.” She took my arm and led me to her
home, which was not far from the temple.

When we reached the home of Isesi, Wakheptry
called for sesame bread, honey spiced with cumin and, bless her, beer. I was so
parched, I did not even care that she did not offer me wine.

I placed my bundled
peplos
on the
ground and drank the cup of beer while Wakheptry’s servants cleaned my cuts and
put a cool wet cloth on my cheek. All the while, she muttered about thieves and
murderers roaming the streets.

“I pray they will be caught.” Wakheptry’s eyes
flashed. “Isesi says that Nesu Ahmose will tolerate no man’s attack on
property, but as he himself was once a….” She stopped and gave me an odd look.

I waited for her to finish, but she didn’t. “What
does Isesi say?” I asked, wondering what a scribe would have to say about
thieves and murderers.

“Nothing.” She fanned her hands in front of her
face. “It is nothing. Here, let me pour you some more beer.”

“Neit’s Blessings upon you. It was fortunate for
me that you brought a late offering to the temple.” For nobility usually
preferred to be the first in their adulations.

We made small talk for a while, until my head
began to swim from the heat and the beer in my empty stomach.

“Poor girl.” Wakheptry clucked her tongue. “Why
don’t you rest? The Greek will not be pleased if I let you wither away before
he returns.”

She meant well, but her words curdled my stomach. I
hated to accept her kindness under false pretense, but I forced myself to
agree. Besides, I was overtired from the day’s activities. If Wakheptry wished
me to rest here, it would be rude to depart now. At least not until the scandal
of my freedom had reached her stratum of society.

I rested for a few hours in the shade of a huge
pomegranate tree in her courtyard. The slaves brought us a plate of figs and
palm dates. I watched fish swim to and fro in the pool, while her slaves fanned
me and she directed her two eldest daughters to dance for me.

“They are not so fine at dance as you, of course,”
Wakheptry said with a sigh.

“Nonsense. They are perfectly lovely.” I popped a
date into my mouth. Wakheptry smiled broadly and poured me another cup of beer.

The heat of the day began to ebb. As the sky
leached of color, Wakheptry called for the evening meal preparations and my
nervousness grew. What if Isesi should have heard of my disgrace and found me
here with his wife? I knew very little of Egyptian customs, but I was certain
that disgrace would be punished, no matter the local customs.

“Wakheptry,” I called, moving aside my emptied
plate. “I am well, now. I-I should return. The others will be worried.”

Wakheptry patted my arm and escorted me to the
door. And while she protested, I thought she might have been relieved. “Let us
meet again soon. I shall ask Isesi to give another feast in your Greek’s honor.”

I managed a weak smile, shouldered my
peplos
and fled from her house of comfort.

Dusk fell. All around me market traders wearily
packed away their goods. Some called out as I passed, hoping for a last minute
barter. Little did they know I had nothing to give, without the benefit of
Charaxus’ deep coffers.

I wandered until it grew difficult to see. The
streets were eerily quiet now the din of the crowds had subsided. The Nile
lapped at the banks and splashed against the stone jetty. I slipped from alley
to alley, feeling like a shade from Hades. At last, with no one to say ‘nay’, I
crept into Hori’s abandoned workshop and crawled into a ball on the floor for
the night.

The workshop was musty with old memories. I could
still smell the scent of spice, cedar shavings, and beer lingering on the air. Tears
formed behind my eyelids. When I opened them, I saw the moonlight streaming in
through the high slatted windows. It turned the dust to stars.

What is the point of such sorrow
, a
small voice inside me whispered.
You were meant to please gods, not
craftsmen
.

The small voice reminded me of another voice long
ago--the words of Merikos the priest. My mother had been trained to pleasure
the gods. And yet she was as blind as I when it came to the struggle of love. Was
I destined to her same fate? To betrayal?

I wished I had Mara to comfort me. She was older
than I, and certainly a woman by now. How many nights did we whisper to one
another about the dreams and desires of our hearts? She would have known what
to do, even if my mother would not.

For the first time in many years, I was completely
alone, without even a master to order me about. It had been four years since I
was free. The elation I’d felt earlier at my freedom melted away to uncertainty
and fear. I found myself longing for Thrace, for the rocky hillsides and rough
hands of Thracian warriors. I ached for the language of my forefathers, spoken
from the tongues of dour Perperek women. What would the forests look like at
home? How did the villagers fare after the Greeks attacked?

Home
. How long had it been since I’d
seen my beloved homeland? If only I could reach Naukratis, surely I could find
a way to gain passage home. I was so heartsick for familiar sights and sounds. I
needed to leave Sais, with all its memories of Charaxus, Hori, and unfulfilled
dreams.

Tomorrow, I vowed.
Tomorrow I will find a
way to Naukratis.

*** ***

In the morning, I rose well before the sun, lest
someone spy me hunkered down in the empty workshop. I was stiff from my night
on the floor, and hungry besides, but I dared not barter my cosmetics and
trinkets for food or drink. I had a more important purchase to make--passage
home.